Ceremonial Party Favors SGA
by flah7
Summary: It's a bad idea to slip ceremonial party favors into a person's drink. Beckett and team fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Ceremonial Party Favors (SGA)

**Author:** Heatherf

**Disclaimers:** Not mine, no money made etc.

**Warnings1:** Grammar, English in general, punctuation, spelling etc. English is my first language. You'd never know it, despite the Sisters' and Fathers' best efforts.

**Warning2:** It's a bike fic. Some of you know what that means. Some of you don't.

**Characters:** Beckett and Sheppard's team and Biro (at the end)

**Summary:** It is a bad idea to slip party favors on unsuspecting guests.

**Rating:** Probably PG maybe G…I really don't know. It's complete, the ending needs some smoothing. It should be all posted by Monday.

**Acknowledgements:** Mitzi, Meg T. and Jen. They make great changes, have awesome suggestions and are a lot smarter than me. However, sometimes I express stubborn free will and don't change some of the things they suggest. As a result….

Any and all mistakes are mine…unless they're really bad and horrible and affect you like finger nails on a chalk board--- then they belong to Emmit.

**Part 1**

Sheppard looked over his shoulder, away from the strong glare of the mid afternoon sun, trying to peer into the back of the dimly lit cave.

Sweat beaded his forehead and ran in tiny rivulets between his shoulder blades dampening his black t-shirt under his unzipped jacket. A warm breeze ghosted over his torso, sending some tendrils of air around to his back creating minor disturbances in his shirt. The shirt material clung to his skin pulling on the minute, scarce hairs on his back, eliciting an irritating itch which he couldn't afford to take the time nor effort to scratch.

He needed both hands on the P-90.

"God damn it, McKay, how's he doing?" The irritability exhibited itself in his voice.

Sheppard regretted his tone the moment the sound of impatience reached his own ears. McKay didn't deserve it; but he could handle it.

"How the Hell should I know," McKay bit back with matching ire as he placed his folded coat under Beckett's head.

Sheppard smiled grimly peering quickly back to the brilliant afternoon light searching the forest. Yeah, McKay could handle his tetchiness better than most and dish right back ten-fold. It made the astrophysicist that much more of an asset as well as an ass.

The clear blue sky, the searing heat and gentle breeze seemed almost calm; surreal, especially with the knowledge the Wraith were in the area.

The Wraith strode brazenly about the planet confident in their intellectual and physical superiority of those they culled at will.

The primitive little villagers, clustered together in their mud huts and stick fences, were no match against the Wraith.

The village populations were just on the verge of bursting and bubbling over the 'civilized' boundaries of their little communities. Crops were not meeting demands, fresh water was becoming scarce, and different economical classes were beginning to be etched in their society.

The sudden unexpected appearance of the Wraith was working to swiftly and quickly cull back the numbers to a mere dwindling few. The proud self-assured people of P7X-301 huddled and hid scattered like small rodents within the dark shadows and thick roots of the surrounding forest. Those foolish few that stood and fought, crumbled like rag dolls in the flash of stunner blasts before the uninterrupted, confident march of the Wraith.

Darts ruled the sky, crisscrossing the brilliant blue, unchallenged, culling at will.

The members of the Lantean team made like foxes darting from the chicken coup and fled the central village.

There was no real place to hide, but the Colonel was giving it his best shot.

Sheppard and his team were being hemmed in, cornered without the Wraith fully realizing it.

SGA-1 and Beckett had barely escaped the central village with their lives. They fled on the heels of the scattering villagers, keeping silent while darts whined over head and people screamed. The team ran as a group disappearing into the forest with Teyla at their front leading the way and Sheppard trailing behind.

Rodney and Ronon skirmished with Beckett. The doctor struggled against them, under the effects of 'cleansing ceremony' party favors. Sheppard felt his anger grow. _Damn stupid people, didn't they understand the dangers of drugging complete strangers out of their minds could be hazardous for all involved?_ _Not everyone reacts to ceremonial drugs the same way. _

Well the poor underfed village sap who thought he could hold Beckett still while the doctor reeled from sudden unexpected hallucinations learned his lesson quick enough. Hell, the chieftain, his elite band of over confident warriors, and the banquet goers all learned a potentially hard lesson about how exceedingly wrong it was to slip drugs into someone's drink, especially without warning them or their friends.

When Beckett felt restraining hands, heard the rhythmic chanting and got an eyeful of large brightly colored feathers, ceremonial wooden face masks and weapons, he---in McKay's words--- freaked.

Carson, in a flash of flight or fight or all of the above, found his flight blocked when he leaped from his sitting position from the pillow padded floor surrounding the banquet table. His knees banged into the underside of the short legged table jostling lead coated 'silverware', lead lined serving platters, and bowls. The harsh jingling noise along with sharp gasps of the party goers added auditory insult to his sensory overload.

The village medicine man stood behind the visiting doctor with a large tooth gapped smile. Wispy white hair fell in lonely strands to boney shoulders and painfully visible collar bones. "This is good. Yes. He will see his demons and be cleansed."

The small villagers that stood lining the large banquet hall remained quiet and unmoving.

"Oh, You have got to be kidding me," McKay muttered dropping his bread onto his napkin covered plate. _Nothing good ever came from being invited to the Chieftain's for dinner. Nothing. Toss in an uncultivated native witch doctor and things were sure to go moronic in a flash._

Beckett leaped up and back from the table, before Sheppard or McKay could swing around. Ronon observed the unmanageable look in the medical doctor's shining blue eyes. Dex waited with tired patience for the Colonel's orders. Sheppard held up a stalling hand as he swiveled slowly on his own silk pillow. Teyla immediately grabbed Doctor Beckett's empty glass and ran a finger along its inside feeling the gritty residue of a substance that had been added.

"He has been drugged," she informed the others quietly.

"Figures," McKay mumbled shaking his head at the predictability of things going to Hell in a hand bag whenever they were guests off world.

"Doc?" Sheppard said the name in askance with a tone of calm reassurance.

"Leave him be," the wild haired medicine man whispered, still shadowing Beckett's larger frame, backing up with the Lantean without impeding his movements. "He will see many things."

"Oh, I bet," McKay's exasperated sigh left no doubt how he felt. "Colonel?"

"Carson?" Sheppard spoke a little more sharply this time.

Alarmed blue eyes snapped toward the Colonel. Sheppard noted the pinpoint pupils and silently cursed. Keeping his voice soft and calm he spoke in a placating manner to their CMO as Beckett eyed the room with growing panic. "It's okay Doc. Nothing to worry about." His voice remained singsong smooth. He spoke looking calmly at Beckett but directed his words to the others, "Remind me to slap the skinny little bastard who did this." Sheppard kept his smile sincere and slowly got his legs free of the table. "Come on, Doc, just relax--- Ronon can you get around him from the other side?"

As the big Satedan began to nod, the elite warriors in their large wooden masks with exaggerated macabre features, closed in on the side of the table the Lanteans occupied. Their gleaming overtly large bladed weapons caught the streaming late morning light and reflected it in blinding flashes. The exceedingly large brightly colored feathers danced and wavered across masked faces and blades. The small troop of well defined muscled warriors encircled the cornered visiting doctor and their own version of a healer.

The small skeletal medicine man's smile grew wider, exposing more gum lined gaps than yellow gnarled teeth. His dark brown eyes danced in disturbing merriment. He stepped back in time with Beckett, shadowing the bigger man's increasingly tense movements.

Carson's heart hammered under the primitive directive of Flight or Fight. Muscles flooded with blood, airways dilated and oxygen flowed less turbulently into lungs. His easy flight was blocked by flashing weapons, ghoulish faces, and menacing feathers.

And then chanting started.

The diminutive villages that had stood quietly in the background against the four inside walls started their chant, keeping time with the rhythmic stomping of their feet.

McKay felt his own pulse begin to race with the building noise and increasing tempo. _Oh this is so not good._ McKay tossed up his hands with outraged annoyance. "Oh, this is just beautiful." He pointed meaningfully at Beckett. "He's going to snap."

"Thanks, Rodney," Sheppard muttered. "I might have missed that."

"Wouldn't surprise me," McKay added.

"Shut up," Sheppard pleaded as he watched the Scot.

Carson's eyes swung left and right with increasing horror.

Sheppard started climbing to his feet ignoring the hurried placating hand movements made by the strange little man behind Carson.

Flight was blocked. Beckett, ever versatile in his thinking, combined the instinctive actions and merged 'flight or fight' into 'fight and flight'.

The witch doctor decided it was time to reach out and rest his hands on his counterpart's shoulders.

It was time for the visions to start.

Carson startled with a yelp. He jerked, twisting to the side, shaking off the gnarled hands that had grabbed his shoulders from behind. He repeatedly swatted at the smaller man like a panicked picnic go-er fighting off a busy wasp.

The littler man wove left and right without moving his feet, his ghoulishly knowing smile sunk into gaunt cheeks while dancing eyes rolled left and right with zealous glee.

With a frustrated growl, Beckett simply knocked the grinning medicine man aside with both hands. The whispy figure was catapulted into the wall amongst poorly clothed chanters. The standing villagers continued their chanting and foot stomping increasing its pace and volume.

Carson skirted the table in the opposite direction as the madly hopping, thin skinned doctor who smiled recklessly at the building chaos. The medicine man's maniacal laughter seemed to trail Beckett like a hostile apparition.

The CMO panicked.

His swirling vision landed on the wavering open doorway. The walls and floor seemed to undulate with the beat of the suffocating, whirling voices.

He scrambled, fighting for balance on a floor that seemed to heave and buckle with every frantic step. He recklessly wove his way toward the streaming day light, shoving bodies aside as if they weighed nothing. He tried to keep his distance from the near emaciated villagers that stood against the wood walls chanting and clomping their feet, and the enraptured, better fed dinner guests.

It was a narrow corridor of bodies that seemed to be looming in on him, grabbing for him, tearing at his skin and chanting names of the dead.

Sheppard swore climbing to his feet dragging Rodney with him. The colonel toyed with the idea of letting Beckett go but feared the Scot might actually make it to the door. Teyla slipped to her feet, freeing her fighting sticks from her bag. Ronon growled with disgust as he dropped the choicest piece of meat back to the wooden table, ignoring the lead lined dinner plate at Beckett's earlier warning.

Rodney shook free of Sheppard's grip and glared at the Colonel for just a second before sweeping his bag up off the ground in an irritable movement, "The next time we get invited to dinner off world---the answer is 'No.' No. No. No…Not 'Maybe' not 'let me think about it'….The answer is No!"

"Sure, Rodney, sure," Sheppard answered keeping an eye on Carson's progress. He watched despondently as the supreme chieftain reached Beckett and grabbed the bigger man by either side of his head.

"Don't do that," Sheppard spoke under his breath with a hint of a tired whine.

"Don't do what?" Rodney asked, shouldering his bag. He followed Sheppard's jut of the chin and sighed, "So many different worlds; so many varieties of stupid."

When the chieftain stood and ensnared the sides of Beckett's face , the CMO's eyes nearly bugged from his face and his jaw dropped. Sheppard thought he could hear the physician's tiny squeak of surprise and fear.

Sheppard cringed when Beckett snapped his head forward with authority.

In a move motivated purely by self defense, Carson rammed his forehead sharply into the Chief's unguarded face, snapping the man's Roman nose like a popsicle stick.

Blood blossomed bilaterally in thick streaming rivers covering the leader's lips and chin in just a matter of seconds.

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head, "Oh, that's going to hurt."

Beckett scrambled past the crumpled man and found himself facing the Chieftain's elite guards. They descended upon the Scottish physician like an avalanche of bodies.

For a brief moment Carson disappeared from sight. Sheppard started forward, and then paused.

Beckett struggled up from under the press of bodies, pushing them back, shoving ceremonial warriors aside and striking whenever he managed to free an arm, leg or his head.

Sheppard quirked an eyebrow, he'd make it appoint to take Carson on his team if they should ever manage to scrounge up an American football game; or any contact sport for that matter.

Apparently the honor guards did not think to remove their gaudy wooden masks or garish feathers.

They did have the mindset to put down their weapons before attempting to drag down the doctor who attempted to ram and claw his way over and through their numbers, trying to reach the open door within his view point.

The chanting continued, growing in a deep rumbling crescendo as the ceremonial hall fell into disarray. Assorted bodies flew over the banquet table, scattering food, place settings and seated guests.

"I don't know why you insist on bringing him off world," Rodney remarked, ducking to the left as a dinner plate sailed by his head.

Sheppard shrugged, stepping to the right as a decanter of wine sloshed in his direction. "Entertainment purposes?"

McKay considered the explanation and shrugged not sure if he bought into it.

The two men stepped aside as a feather and masked adorned warrior flew by them backward.

The wild knobby-kneed medicine man whooped his arms up in exaggerated motion, bouncing left and right, tossing his head in circular motions, gyrating his neck, exposing the spinous processes of his thinly covered vertebrae, encouraging the chanters to maintain their rhythmic beat and increase their volume.

Sheppard almost felt the need to go to Beckett's aid, as did Rodney, Ronon and Teyla. The foursome exchanged concerned glances and then stared back at the growing mass of bodies that littered the floor and slid willy nilly across the table.

Ronon purposely stepped across the banquet table, taking the most direct route toward the open door the doctor was clearing a path to. Teyla sighed not at all surprised something like this would occur and followed Ronon. McKay shook his head at Sheppard as if to blame him for the events of the late morning.

Sheppard slowly made his way into the melee delicately placing his feet, trying to avoid, tipped glasses, assorted debris and scattered bodies. He slowly picked his way toward their doctor as Beckett diligently 'cleansed' himself of obstacles.

The Scot, red-faced, and panicked, apparently did not feel any significant pain. He bowled his way through the chieftain's elite force like an unmanned bulldozer plowing through kiosks.

Had the honour guard paid any attention they would have noticed that Beckett was fixated solely on reaching the open door. He simply climbed, shoved and careened his way toward daylight, away from the weapons, the monstrous feathers and the fearsome masks that converged upon him and worked to block his escape to freedom.

The building drum of noise, the crush of voices seemed to scratch and claw their way mercilessly into his soul. His skin felt afire in the oppressive heat of the hall.

Sheppard intended on only following their doctor. It would do them no good to interfere. Beckett, in this state, wouldn't be able to, or be open to, distinguishing friend from foe. He only wanted out. The Colonel couldn't disagree with him.

Besides it might do these villages some good to learn that you shouldn't go drugging well fed strangers, even if they seemed mild mannered. And you shouldn't go drugging people without telling them or their friends. It was an important lesson that needed to be learned.

Beckett was somewhere between tackling a group of warriors to the ground, and climbing over them and the partially decimated table and assorted sitting pillows, when the whine of the first Wraith dart was heard.

The terrified screams of villagers outside brought Rodney to a panicked halt. It drained the blood from Teyla's bronze features. Moving as one, the team rushed the pile of bodies, swinging their gear up over their shoulders. Sheppard and Ronon jumped over suddenly petrified prone guests, skittered through spilled food and firmly latched onto the crazed physician.

They grabbed Beckett by either arm and pulled him sharply from the knot of warriors he had become entangled with just near the door. They hauled him quickly toward the threshold hoping to escape outside without any more interference.

Beckett twisted to and fro managing to free an arm. He took a desperate, solid swing at Ronon hitting the Satedan squarely just below the eye, splitting the skin and drawing blood. The runner immediately snapped an answering return blow, cracking Beckett's head back and forth, weakening his knees.

"Hey, knock it off," Sheppard hissed fighting the Scot's waning sense of balance. Twin rivulets of blood streamed from Beckett's nostrils. He blinked slowly, owl-eyed, fighting to focus.

"He hit me first," Ronon defended as the three stumbled toward the door.

"Now is not the time," Teyla hissed, shouldering her gear and hefting Sheppard's pack. She drew too close to the trio and earned a glancing head butt to the cheek from Atlantis's CMO. Sheppard cringed and tightened his grip on Carson.

The Athosian never broke stride and led them from the building.

McKay skirted widely around them and trotted after Teyla, keeping his eyes toward the menacing sky.

SGA hurried down the gravel path that stretched from the ceremonial building. They wound through the narrow, dirt lanes of the convoluted village. Teyla lead them quickly and confidently through the maze of twisting turns and fetid alleys of an unplanned growing community.

They ran as a knotted group, twirling and turning around panicked people. The four stretched their legs, dragging their fifth, as they sprinted past decrepit, poorly constructed outbuildings that seeped past the boundaries of the village proper and stretched into the surrounding wood.

The Lanteans left the panicked confusion of the tiny streets and fled into the flanking heavy pine forest. With Teyla still leading, she angled them upward, toward the honeycomb of caves in the mountains.

The whine of countless darts crisscrossing low overhead, and the frantic screams of the hysterical populace, followed the small team into the thick forests of the surrounding mountains.

Upon entering the trees, Sheppard switched positions with McKay. The Colonel dropped back to cover their trail, while McKay, with Ronon's help, struggled with Beckett.

During their mad uphill dash, a pair of Wraith materialized from behind a tree bringing their stunners up to fire. Without breaking stride, Ronon merely fired at the life suckers in a swift volley of shots. The Wraith drones were flung backward with limbs twitching and great charred holes smoking their chests.

Beckett managed to knock McKay to the ground in a desperate bid for freedom. Rodney scrambled forward and wrapped his arms around Carson's lower leg, keeping a frantic hold on the CMO's calf.

Ronon turned toward the struggling physician who had started to try and kick his way free in an anxious attempt to escape.

Dex flicked his thumb across the setting on his gun and shot Beckett square in the chest.

Carson staggered backward, briefly engulfed in a red aura of a stun discharge. He tripped into Rodney's shoulder as the astrophysicist was in the process of scrambling free, trying to create distance.

Both would have gone down to the dirt trail had Ronon not simply reached out and grabbed a fistful of the doctor's jacket and pulled him forward. The runner, using the momentum, quickly hauled the semi-conscious man across his shoulders.

Sheppard and Teyla waited impatiently on opposite ends of the small group, searching the forest for the teams of Wraith which were sure to be out there.

Beckett squirmed listlessly for a moment and then settled.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?" McKay griped as he climbed to his feet wiping blood from his nose.

"McKay," Sheppard warned.

"I'm just saying," McKay muttered while falling into line, "that it would have been a lot easier if he did that sooner."

The group continued their desperate escape. They climbed upward into the mountains under the cover of the forest, searching for the caves, hoping the thick stone mountains would protect them from the Darts beaming technology.

Within a few long minutes, legs burning and chests heaving for breath, they skirted around a handful of giant grey boulders and bustled inside the hidden entrance of a deep cave.

Ronon unceremoniously dropped Beckett in the back of the cave. "Stay with him, Little Man," Dex ordered as he shook his shoulders easing the cramped tension in his muscles.

The big runner turned and left the astrophysicist and joined Sheppard and Teyla up front.

Rodney glared at the threesome and then turned his attention back to his crumbled charge. "This is great…just great." With a heavy sigh he gazed around his dark surroundings as he tugged his own scanner from one of his many vest pockets. Figures he was the one left with the dubious charge of keeping the Scot quiet should he come to life at an importune time.

Which was likely; SGA-1's luck tended to run like that off world---after being invited to dinner---Bad.

McKay sighed with a hint of nervous frustration. He gently eased his pack to the ground, treating his laptop with the care it deserved. He kicked Sheppard's pack to the side.

"McKay? How is he?" Sheppard asked again, letting his eyes dance across the few open meters of rocky dirt and into the forest, his back to the scientist.

Rodney cursed as he shifted Beckett's head back onto the folded coat, but his overgrown head kept rolling off it. Damn melon.

Carson's hand slipped from his side and scratched feebly at the dirt. McKay swore under his breath and quickly but gently raised Carson's chilled hand back up across the physician's midsection. McKay left it for a moment, considered the cold skin and wished they had a blanket or something. _Oh, who was he kidding? He wished they were back in Atlantis._

"McKay," Sheppard warned drawing out the scientist's name making it known that he wanted something other than sarcasm.

Teyla moved toward the back of the cave.

"He's still mostly out, his hands are freezing, but he's burning up." Rodney took a blanket offered to him by Teyla. The Athosian remained at his side on one knee with her open pack.

"What the hell did they give you, Carson?" McKay asked his insensible friend as he placed the blanket over him.

"I don't know, but we'll be home soon," Sheppard answered, knowing the question wasn't directed toward him. He spoke trying to reassure himself and the others.

"If the Wraith don't find us first and suck us into husks." McKay grumbled.

"Dr. McKay, Rodney," Teyla spoke softly. "He is moving again."


	2. Chapter 2

**I believe in magical medical fanfiction pixie dust and all. The ending to the story got lost. Its gone, kawoosh. Don't know where it went. It saddens me. **

**Part 2**

"Oh no," McKay muttered quietly. He desperately leaned over and grabbed for Carson's black canvas bag that lay just out of his reach. His fingers curled around the coarse material and he jerked it closer.

Beckett's medical rucksack scoured a thin trail in the loose red dirt floor.

"Shit," Sheppard reaffirmed as he glanced quickly back over his shoulder to see Beckett once again start tossing and turning.

Rodney twisted and quickly opened the medical bag ruffling through its contents.

"What are you doing?" The Colonel asked, skirting his attention between the forest and the building movement in the back of the cave.

"Looking for something to knock him out, or make him sleep, or something," McKay stated with a touch of fear colored by the frustration of always having to explain his actions.

"You can't give him anything. Hell, he's already been drugged by God knows what."

"Are you serious?" McKay asked incredulously. "Conan, there already shot him once. He seemed to have survived that!"

Sheppard tried to keep his calm, wishing that he could be in two places at once. "Just make him comfortable and if anything, try and keep him quiet." Sheppard said as he turned his attention back to the outside and searched the surrounding area for any hint of the Wraith.

"We've got to do something," McKay exclaimed. His eyes darted back to Beckett who showed increasing signs of coming too, and snapped his panicked gaze back to the shadowed contents within the medical bag.

"Yes, he is becoming more irritable again," Teyla noted calmly from behind McKay.

_What was it with the Pegasus Galaxy and stating the obvious? _

As if on cue, Beckett shoved the blanket away from himself, kicking it off with quick frustrated movements and groaned. He rolled onto his side facing the interior wall of the cave, turning his back to the others.

"Come on Carson, keep quiet," McKay muttered glancing quickly over his shoulder fearing that Wraith would descend upon them at any moment.

"Perhaps he'll continue to sleep." Teyla hoped. She rubbed at her jaw feeling the growing lump and bruise. It was tender. Dr. Beckett should not go through 'Cleansing Ceremonies'.

"He will not sleep," Dex stated in his matter of fact way. He swiveled in his squatted stance at the cave entrance to watch the three behind him. His left eye was swollen shut and a flap of skin had been hurriedly taped back in place over his cheek.

Dr. Beckett packed a powerful punch.

Carson shifted a leg uneasily and then swatted a hand irritably at his head. In the next moment he rolled over, groaning again as muscles protested and joints ached. He arched his back and scrubbed furiously at his head almost growling.

"McKay, keep him quiet," Sheppard hissed. The Colonel hunkered down behind a giant boulder that stood just off center of the cave entrance. He brought his P-90 up to his shoulder and concentrated on something that moved just behind the tree line. Rodney watched as Sheppard tracked the movement with the barrel of his gun.

McKay felt his heart race and turned desperately back around to stare at Carson. He found the medical doctor staring back at him with red-rimmed, blue glazed eyes that did not express any hint of recognition. His pupils were almost nonexistent.

"Oh, um, Carson. Hi. You with us?" Rodney offered a small wave. "Your good friend Rodney, here. Good friends---why don't you just go back to sleep…You should sleep…Okay? Carson?" McKay's uneasy forced smile dipped a little as he backed away.

"Dr. Beckett, do not be alarmed," Teyla smiled kindly and insinuated herself between the two doctors. "You have been drugged and are sick. The Wraith are near. You must be quiet." She kept her smile in place as she tried to keep the Colonel and Ronon within her peripheral vision, "We are trying to get back to Atlantis."

Beckett stared at Teyla furrowing his brow, "Who 'r you?...I don't know you." His voice was soft but hoarse and his words were only partially articulated. He shivered. Sore muscles tightened and trembled forcing him to close heated eyes and groan. He rolled onto his side facing them, drawing his knees up to his abdomen and tucking his chin closer to his chest as he squeezed his eyes closed.

"We are friends, Dr. Beckett." Teyla maintained her smile and rested a gentle hand on the side of his head. The heat of a building fever worried her. "Let us help you."

"Och, Mum, it hurts," he whispered despondently, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his midsection. Beckett moaned as he rolled into her touch.

Teyla glanced quickly over her shoulder to McKay and then Sheppard who had turned his head with raised eyebrows. "He is reacting badly to their cleansing drugs."

"God, he's not even in there," Rodney stated worriedly. "What are we going to do?"

"Nothing we can do," Dex whispered. "They are close."

"Teyla, get up here," Sheppard ordered. "McKay, you've got Beckett."

"What?" Rodney's eyes widened in disbelief. "What do you mean, 'I've got Beckett'?"

The Athosian rubbed her thumb against the side of Carson's heated temple and mumbled something softly under her breath. She paused for only a moment and then quickly and silently stood, scooping up her weapon and clipping it to her vest in one seamless, deadly motion. She crossed the distance without noticeably disturbing a grain of sand and joined the Colonel and Dex at the entrance of the cave.

McKay watched her go, quietly relieved that they had made friends with the Athosian people.

Beckett groaned at the loss of the touch and rubbed furiously at the side of his head scratching his feet irritably in the dirt. He moaned and quickly cinched back into himself turning over to face the cave wall again.

"McKay, keep him quiet," Sheppard whispered harshly, realizing he gave Rodney an almost impossible order.

"What am I suppose to do? Smother him with a pillow if he gets too loud?"

"No," Sheppard answered with a touch of a warning in his voice.

"Keep him safe, Little Man," Dex ordered.

"Oh, thanks, that really clarified things," McKay muttered. His attention was pulled from Ronon when Beckett wrapped his arms around his stomach and groaned, drawing his knees tighter into his abdomen.

Carson quickly rolled again onto his back, pulling at his shirt, trying to tear it away from his hypersensitive skin. "It hurts," he mumbled tugging restlessly at the cloth trying to twist away from it. Taut muscles in his forearms strained under heated skin. Triceps bulged and tapered toward his bent elbows. His wrists flexed and extended, rolling his scuffed fists to and fro. With no relief, he irritably rolled onto his side once again facing the inner craggy wall of the cave. The blanket trailed haphazardly behind him.

"We're so screwed," McKay whispered to himself. He pulled his own bag of gear closer to himself and blindly searched for one of his scanners. His holstered .9mm banged against his leg giving him a mixed sense of comfort.

The silence in the cave thickened as tension rose. The crunch of heavy footfalls just outside their little hideout became increasingly louder as the Wraith drew near.

The small group held their fire. There was no way they could make this a running firefight. There would be no dash for the gate. At least not yet. Not until the Wraith left or disengaged the stargate.

Sheppard ignored the two men behind him, trusting McKay to keep Beckett safe at all possible costs and hopefully quiet.

The colonel watched crouched low behind the boulder as a bone faced Wraith strode by.

He could have reached out and pushed it.

Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla held their breath. Where ever a drone walked a black coated overseer was normally close behind.

The Wraith paused at the entrance of the cave and stared at the boulders as if trying to decide something. The bright sunlight blinded it to the dark recesses of the cave's interior.

The sudden, unexpected cry of pain from within the cave made whatever decision the Wraith drone contemplated that much easier. No leather coated, green skin, brain was needed for decision making in this situation.

"Damn it, McKay," Sheppard hissed and stood up, his finger closing around the trigger of the P-90.

Ronon's pistol blasted first. The drone Wraith was flung backward, arms flailing, with a charcoal singed gaping wound to its chest.

"No, Carson! No!" McKay's panicked shouts had Sheppard pivoting around just in time to see Beckett bowl into and then over McKay, knocking the astrophysicist flying backward.

Beckett bolted for the entrance of the cave a wild terrorized, look brightened his eyes.

"Doc! No!" Sheppard hollered in warning.

He released his grip on his P-90, letting it slap against his chest and abdomen, and dove at the rushing physician. He clipped Beckett around the knees. Both toppled to the ground.

Beckett fought in a drugged haze. He struck blindly and with a liberating force that felt no reciprocal pain. Sheppard was fighting a losing battle.

Teyla took up the Colonel's defensive position keeping an eye out for more Wraith.

Beckett rolled free of Sheppard and tried to jump to his feet. A solid flashing knee accidentally slammed squarely into the underside of the Colonel's jaw, smashing Sheppard upward and backward into the dirt.

The Scot scrambled to his feet and once again rushed the cave entrance.

The solid red energy burst from Ronon's gun hit him square in the chest. It stopped Beckett's blind charge and staggered him back a step. Remarkably, Carson remained on his feet and took a faltering, stammering step forward, determined on reaching the outside world and the sun.

Ronon fired a second time.

The red energy blast struck the physician again mid chest. Beckett lurched back a second step, his arms jerked and twitched at his side. He weaved drunkenly on his feet for a moment and then slowly sank to his knees. He paused there, staring straight ahead with glistening blue eyes surrounded by small spidery lines of scleral blood vessels.

In a moment of clarity, he looked pleadingly to Ronon.

"Help me," he whispered, just before falling forward onto his chest and face with his arms limply at his side.

McKay scrambled to his feet and rushed to Beckett, "Obviously on stun. Right?" He spared Ronon a worried glance.

The big Satedan merely nodded.

"Easy, Rodney," Sheppard mumbled struggling to his own feet and staggering his way unsteadily to the pair. He spit a wad of fresh blood to the ground and ran his tongue over his teeth. No telltale gaps were present. Sheppard knelt on the other side of Beckett. "Ronon, didn't have a choice."

"Yeah, well, multiple stunner blasts can't be good for him," Rodney grumbled searching clumsily for a jugular pulse.

"Better than getting sucked dry; I'd think." The colonel turned his attention to Ronon. "Drag that life sucker in here out of the open…no reason to further advertising where we are."

"Probably," Rodney muttered. "Help me roll him over." McKay groaned as he tried to move Beckett. "Well, I know where all the food's been disappearing to on Atlantis."

Sheppard quirked an eyebrow and helped McKay.

Together Sheppard and McKay rolled Beckett onto his back. The physician's nose bled freely. Blood streamed from his left nostril, tracking immediately to the left and cutting through the fine dust and dirt that clung to his face.

"Hold his head up a bit," Sheppard ordered. McKay complied without comment. The colonel quickly brushed some of the dirt of Carson's face searching for any cuts or bruises. "Alright let's get him further toward the back."

The two dragged Carson back to the rear of the cave and dropped him unceremoniously on his twisted blanket. Sheppard nudged the half full canteens nearby with the back of his fist. They wouldn't be able to stay here for long, not with their supplies dwindling.

The colonel unvelcroed one of his vest's upper pockets and pulled out a pair of plastic restraints.

"What? What are you doing?" McKay leaned backed away from Sheppard, distancing himself from the colonel and his intentions.

"Listen, McKay," Sheppard spoke wearily, not liking what he was about to do but realizing it was necessary. "He's out of his mind right now. He's got no idea who we are or where we are." The Colonel lashed the plastic restraints around Beckett's dirty wrists, securing them tightly in front. "We can't risk him attacking anyone or trying to take off again." Sheppard moved to Beckett's ankles and secured those as well. "It's for his own good. He's a hell of a lot stronger than he looks."

"I can watch him," McKay argued, "He just took me by surprise." Panic and revulsion brightened his eyes.

Having been held captive by Koyla and his men on Atlantis had put a bitter and frightened taste in McKay's mouth. He had no stomach for personal violence. He was not a physical man, not if he could help it. Physical violence and restraint directed toward himself or one of his associates, let alone a friend, was horrifically revolting. Koyla and his little sadistic troop of Genii had turned Rodney's slight hesitancy into a full blown, conscious loathing.

Yes, McKay grudgingly understood the need for restraints on an intellectual level however it did not negate the physical sickening turn that gripped his gut whenever someone threatened violence or restraints on another. Earthling or not. There was something wrong about it, having lived through it and survived it; he found it to be more of an emotional/ raw reaction than a rational one and he despised Koyla and the Genii for exposing it and laying it bare.

"I know, Rodney," Sheppard agreed softly, understanding on more levels than he thought Rodney might have realized, "but he didn't take me by surprise and damn near took my head off." Sheppard tugged on the plastic cuffs that cinched Beckett's ankles together and then finally looked up into the unsure visage of McKay.

The necessity of this precaution was not Rodney's fault. Sheppard had to make that clear. "And earlier today he damn near laid out Ronon. If he does it again with a whole contingent of Wraith out there none of us stands a chance." He kept his gaze on Rodney hoping to see a spark of understanding, hoping to see the self-induced weight of blame get shifted.

The moment was interrupted by the Runner.

Ronon dragged the dead Wraith by one of its arms into the middle of the cave. He stared silently at the restraints which tightly secured Beckett's wrists and ankles. "He will be angry with you when he comes too."

"Yeah," Sheppard breathed, "but at least if it happens then it means we're alive."

Ronon nodded his head in acquiescence.

Sheppard and McKay slowly stood and joined the other two at the mouth of the cave. McKay looked back over his shoulder to Carson, who lay on his side in the thick shadows, alone, bound hand and foot. "It might not keep him quiet, you know."

"I know." Sheppard responded quietly. He let his sharp gaze glance the surrounding forest, not allowing his eyes to rest on any one spot.

He wouldn't risk placing a proper gag on Carson; suffocation and choking were too much of a real hazard. He'd rather take down another Wraith than risk killing a friend for their safety.


	3. Chapter 3

Here is another part. I said I'd have the whole story posted by Monday. It might not all be posted by Monday, maybe Tuesday. Found the ending, it is pretty bare bones...

**Part 3**

"They are leaving." Ronon stood leaning against the entrance of the cave staring at the sky. The darts flew in from all directions with the appearance of undisciplined chaos however, to the educated eye the precision and skill of the pilots was astounding.

Sheppard stared at the sky with a touch of awe.

"They will leave some behind on the ground," Teyla spoke quietly and then turned to stare at Sheppard. "It is what they do."

"Can we access the gate?" The colonel asked. He looked over his shoulder again and stared at the figure that lay quietly bound hand and foot in the back of the cave.

Beckett occasionally moved his hands rubbing them into the dirt. Bugs. He had seen bugs; teeny wee ants if one was to listen to the Doc. No one else could see them. The imaginary insects didn't seem to bother Carson but every so often he would smudge his fist into the dirt as if squishing one.

Rodney kept his distance, fiddling with his scanners. He gave them ample warning using the life signs detector whenever a stray Wraith party would chance upon their area.

As a group they remained hidden, quiet and undetected. In those times nervous eyes fell to Beckett who mumbled to himself with half hooded eyes carrying on quiet conversations with figures only he could see and hear. More times than not he would chuckle at something unseen and unheard, crane his head as if following people and voices. He did not seem to notice that his wrists or ankles were bound nor did it bother him. Though on occasion, he did gnaw on the plastic restraints as if in a moment of clarity he noticed his bindings.

"The gate will deactivate when the last dart goes through," Ronon answered and followed Sheppard's gaze to the back of the cave.

"He seems content," Teyla remarked as she watched Beckett rub the side of his head and then rub his hands into the dirt. Another imaginary bug wiped out.

"He's stoned out of his mind," Rodney stated with exasperation.

"He is quiet," Ronon reminded.

"Quieter," Sheppard clarified.

Beckett rolled onto his back and then to his other side. He swiped at his head with a hint of irritability and then settled down. He remained motionless caught somewhere between unconsciousness and sleep.

The group turned their attention back to the darts that whined through the sky dipping toward the ground to disappear through the activated stargate.

"When they're gone, we go," Sheppard announced.

* * *

The first thing Beckett became aware of was the pounding, drumming pain that thundered and crammed itself through his head.

The second thing was the bruising and burning discomfort that radiated from a pressing, blunt, focal point in his gut. It hammered and beat into his abdomen with a steady, pounding cadence.

He groaned. His head threatened to explode. He wished it luck.

His head bounced into something soft and then rebounded off of it.

The movement sparked explosive and intense nausea that resulted in the brutal expulsion of everything and anything he had ever eaten. His midsection seized.

His head was crushed with demanding and compressing agony as repeated wave after wave of violent sickness spasmed up through his gut and out his reflexively opened mouth.

Beyond his own muted cries, he heard someone curse and then nothing.

The second time Beckett felt himself come back to life, his head still hurt with tenacious misery. Bruising pressure still drummed through his abdomen and a metallic acrid taste coated his mouth. He cautiously ran his tongue over his fuzzy teeth and found bits of debris wedged in the back of his incisors. It struck him as strange. Moving his tongue hurt his head and made his stomach gurgle. He left the debris alone.

His head banged against something soft, rebounded and then banged again. A dreaded sense of deja-vu filled him.

Nausea flared.

He groaned. It made his head hurt more; he groaned again, his head hurt even more.

His stomach got involved. It forced a whimper.

Someone beyond his feeble attempts at sensory perception muttered, "Oh no" and then his stomach brutally discharged its meager contents and once again he found himself violently and painfully sick.

This time, however, he stayed conscious enough to feel himself get shifted as his stomach tried to forcibly throw itself up into the space occupied by his lungs; diaphragm be damned.

He groaned again and feebly grasped for anything to hold onto. It was then he realized his shoulders burned. His wrists felt glued together but it made no difference to him as his stomach continued its convulsive attempts to escape through his nose and mouth, crawling its way over his heart and lungs.

It left him gasping and whimpering in pain.

"Easy, Dr. Beckett, you will survive this," Teyla soothed from somewhere far away. He so desperately wanted to tell her he didn't wish to survive this and hoped someone put him out of his misery soon.

His stomach attempted its third Coup. He thought for sure he lost a lung, or it was at least wedged up in a sinus. His hands clawed feebly at something grainy and harsh. He didn't care what it was as he tried to gain purchase against the violent and surprising strength of his stomach's suicidal revolt.

A hand slid within his grasp and returned his desperate grip. There was something soothing about it. His stomach once again heaved. He cried out, hoarse, expelling air, bile and painful groans. His hands clenched reflexively, trying to fist and curl. A surprisingly strong grip returned his hold and offered their own strength.

His stomach gave up its aggressive attempt to escape his body through his mouth and he fell back into something soft, warm and pliable.

A breeze ghosted over his sweat dotted skin and a chill trembled sore muscles. He moaned and settled heavily against the warm soft backdrop that supported him. He'd give anything to be relieved of this misery.

His bound hands lost their tight reflexive grip and loosened, freeing Teyla's smaller ones.

He missed Rodney's worried glance as he melted into the Athosian. McKay stared at Sheppard who stood guard over the small group. They were only a few miles from the stargate.

They could make it. Maybe.

Carson missed hearing the worried voices, seeing the concern exchange of glances and Ronon changing his shirt after having been vomited on twice.

He thankfully missed being hauled to collapsing feet and once again hefted over the runner's shoulders. The group headed quickly once again for the stargate.

He missed the running firefight.

* * *

The pain in his head brought tears to his eyes. The burning ache in his gut had the tears spilling over his lower lids and freefalling to the ground.

Motion bounced him back and forth pivoting on a single point that burrowed ruthlessly into his sore midsection. "Stop…please." He begged in a voice that barely reached his own ears. The plaintive raspy sound surprised him.

The motion continued.

"Please…stop….please," he tried again. His eyes focused on nothing. Everything was blurry and would then almost focus and then blur again.

Fat salt water droplets fell from his eyes.

"Hey, hold up." It was Rodney's voice. Beckett nearly cried out in relief. Instead he managed only a pitiful moan. The action brought more pain to his midsection and more tears leaked from his eyes.

"Carson?" Rodney's face suddenly twisted into his narrow vision of focus.

"Please, stop," Carson whispered. His head drummed with fierce pain. His abdomen knotted and burned with every jolting move. It felt as if someone had driven a blunt stake through his gut and pooled all his blood into his head.

"Put him down, put him down," Rodney's short directives were music to Carson's drumming ears. Suddenly the crushing pressure left his midsection.

"Watch his head." Hands grabbed at him. They were warm and gentle.

"I've got'im." Someone eased his head down, nearly level with his shoulders. The blinding pain behind his eyes dissipated slightly. Someone lifted his head and placed something soft under it, elevating it slightly.

A gritty hand wiped at his face. It hurt. His skin hurt, crawled with unpleasant sensations. He wanted to go home.

He blinked, noticed the blue sky and white clouds and for a moment thought they might be back on Earth. _Maybe a bad night down the pub with his cousins. The boys, when together, could cause quite a row. It always made his mum worry. But nothing too bad ever came of such nights. He and his cousins watched out for one another. _

"Carson?" Rodney's face floated into his view.

"Ro'ny," Carson mumbled. He didn't have a cousin Rodney. Carson tried to raise a hand but his wrists still felt stuck together. Trapped. Confined. _Maybe it was the pub. Perhaps Chief O'Connor had had enough of him and his cousins. His mum and uncles would be angry, disappointed._ It panicked him, but he had no fight left. He'd worry about it later.

Teyla's elegant features replaced Rodney's. "Would you like some water?"

Carson felt his stomach gurgled and was unsure if he was thirsty or going to be sick. He stared at the Athosian blankly trying to decide if cold water would settle. _There weren't Athosians down Harrison's Pub._

Apparently he hesitated too long. Teyla's face was replaced by Sheppard's. "Good to see you back. Think you can walk?"

_They often had to walk home from the pub, many times he couldn't recall the blind stagger up the hill back to his mum's home…normally it was he that carried one of his larger cousins home. Liam sometimes got into a spot of trouble with his drink. _

"Walk? Are you crazy, look at him." Rodney's voice sounded off in the distance.

"We need Ronon's gun," Sheppard answered looking away from Carson off to the side.

The colonel then looked back down at Beckett and smiled crookedly, "Hey, doc you in there?"

"Aye," Beckett breathed. He tried moving his hands again. He felt them lift slightly from his midsection but then settle heavily across his lower belly. It hurt, made his stomach gurgle in a threatening manner. He didn't dare swallow.

Carson knew Sheppard watch his movements as well. _Colonel Sheppard didn't go to Harrison's with his cousins._ Everything seemed just out of his reach, just out of his grasp. The clouds moved too slow and seemingly in the wrong direction. The sky was just a touch too blue. The breeze across his bare arms felt a bit too sharp. "Feel funny."

Sheppard chuckled, "Yeah, I bet you do. Those villagers knocked your ass for a loop." He sobered slightly and looked serious, "Doc, we got Wraith all around us. You think if we get you on your feet you can walk?"

"Been since wee bairn," Carson muttered. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment. The relentless breeze sliced through his skin and scoured against his bones. His muscles felt too heavy.

He heard a chuckle off in the distance. Then someone was tapping his cheek. "Come on Doc stay with us. I'll cut your feet free. Think you can walk to the gate?"

"Is Peter goin' to follow us?" Beckett whispered keeping his eyes closed.

"Peter?" Sheppard asked looking up at McKay and the others with curiosity. McKay shrugged and twirled his index finger next to his ear.

"Grodin," Beckett breathed, settling heavily into the dirt. "He wants to come back, too."

"Ahhh." Sheppard gazed up to the others looking for suggestions. Dex shrugged with a 'Why not' indifference. Teyla raised an elegant eyebrow. McKay took a breath and nodded hesitantly.

"Sure, Doc, the more the merrier---Now lets go---on your feet. Remember we've got to walk."

"Walk." Beckett mumbled. Yes. He could walk, been walking for years, although at the moment he'd rather ride in an auto. He let his eyes close. _Liam and sometimes Brendan or Sean and occasionally Edward but rarely Peter or Henry, got terribly heavy on the trek home after a night at Harrison's. Michael and Robby hardly ever ventured out with them but they occasionally talked Paddy into going and Duncan. Thankfully, Arthur was away most times, that boy and trouble just naturally found one another…_much like Rodney and Ronon.

"God, how long is he going to be like this?---How many cousins does he have?" Rodney's frustrated exasperation floated over Beckett. A hand tapped his face sparking him to open his eyes.

The wind was whispering to him. He felt free, but his muscles felt too heavy to embrace the new freedom. _So maybe not so free._

Carson didn't feel Sheppard cut the restraints from around his ankles. Once again someone was tapping his cheek. "Okay Doc on your feet. You ready?"

He didn't bother answering verbally but instead smiled crookedly. He wasn't ready for anything. He'd just as soon float away on the gentle breeze. _Perhaps soak up another pint_.

"Shit," Sheppard muttered to himself. "No pints here, Doc." There was a pause and then the Colonel again, "Okay, up we go."

Carson didn't feel the sets of hands that lifted and cajoled him to his feet. He didn't register the voices that tried to encourage him or the panic in their voices as his knees buckled.

"Shit. Shit..shit..shit."

"Damn it! Grab him. Watch his head."

"I knew this was a bad idea." McKay's grumble had Beckett moaning.

"You could have said something sooner, McKay." Sheppard's frustrated retort had Beckett opening his eyes again. He found himself staring at the sky. _Blue._ It made him smile.

"Blue."

"Oh God." McKay muttered somewhere in the background.

"Yeah, Doc the sky's blue," Sheppard agreed. "You ready to try again?"

"Wha..?"

"You faded out on us Doc." Sheppard smiled half heartedly, leaning into Beckett's narrowed field of vision blocking out the vibrant blue sky.

"Faded," Beckett mumbled, smiling when he caught sight of the blue just around Sheppard's head.

"He fainted."

"Dr. McKay, now is not the time." Teyla's cool voice sliced through the breeze.

"I can carry him again." Ronon's deep admission had Beckett blinking and his smile fading. Carry who? _Not Liam. Liam dropped him once on his head, gave Carson a crick in his neck for a full week._ _His mum didn't have much sympathy for him. It had made his neck ache that much more debilitating. _

"We're going to need your gun sooner rather than later." Sheppard turned his attention back to Beckett. "Come on Doc, open your eyes. You with me?"

"Aye." Carson smiled lazily, "Ohh, Hello Dr. Dumais." An innocent pleased grin dimpled his cheeks. Pinpoint blue eyes followed the movement of a hallucination just behind Sheppard's shoulder.

"Oh, great, Dumais now?" Rodney said flashing his arms upward with frustrated exasperation. "We got a parade of dead people with us."

"Ohh, 'n Sergeant Markham," Beckett's grin grew into a full fledged smile.

"Oh, gee can we go now?" McKay uttered. "Looks like the gangs all here." He lost a bit of his sarcastic edge, "lets not forget the Wraith, shall we?"

"Umm, that's good Doc. Real Good. Now listen," Sheppard tapped Beckett's face again. "Stay with me Doc. We're going to get you on your feet. You lean on us if you have too, but I want you stay on your feet you understand me."

"Feet," Beckett repeated.

"Yeah, Doc stay on your feet." Sheppard patted his shoulder in encouragement.

"Peter broke a metatarsal in Antarctica," Beckett's non-sequitor had Sheppard pausing for a moment and then shaking his head.

"Oh, this is so useless."

"Shut up, McKay."

"Rodney," Carson repeated with a bit of unhinged joy.

"Look at that, McKay, it just takes getting stoned for someone to be happy you're around," Sheppard joked.

"Oh you're a laugh a minute, Colonel, just a barrel of humor." Rodney's sarcastic retort had Sheppard smiling. He turned his attention back to Beckett to find the physician with his eyes closed.

"No, Doc. I want you to think about staying on your feet."

"More than 30.48 centrimetres" Beckett clarified.

"Yeah, sure, Doc." The encouraging pat on his shoulder was welcomed.

"Where'r they?"

"Not important," Sheppard clarified. "Okay, let's try this again. Slower this time." The colonel looked to the others and then back to Beckett, "Stay on your feet. You got that?"

"304.8 millimetres," Beckett mumbled. No pat on the shoulder. _Damn_.

"Carson, shut up," Rodney directed with an air of incredulous impatience.

Once again hands reached down and gently guided him upward. They paused when they had him sitting up. He leaned heavily to the side. It felt like Ronon. Ronon was not like the gentle flaying of an icy breeze. He smelled like vomit.

"Okay, on your feet," Sheppard ordered and soon hands were lifting and tugging him to his feet.

The world greyed and swirled around him. He shut his eyes and lethargy pooled around him, draping over him as his blood dropped to his feet. He wanted to go back to sleep.

"No! Damn it, Carson!" McKay ground out through clenched teeth. He cinched his hand tighter around Beckett's upper arm.

"Beckett!" Sheppard was shouting in his ear. "Stay on your feet." It was a scolding, frustrated tone, like an angry, disappointed coach.

"Feet," Beckett muttered, wanting back into the good graces of his team.

"Yeah, your feet, that's it." Sheppard encouraged. He watched as Beckett took a little more weight on his legs and the slow small weaving circles slowly dissipated.

"You alright?"

A received an unarticulated grunt for an answer.

Sheppard sighed, "Good.---Now open your eyes."

Beckett complied and then shut them again. The light hurt his head. He heard the Colonel talk to someone else. "McKay, get his other arm. Ronon take point. Teyla you watch our back trail." Then the voice was directed toward him. "Okay, Doc, lets try out those feet of yours. Let's go."

Beckett felt himself stutter step and nearly go down but hands grabbed for him and kept him upright. "That's alright doc; Doing good. Keep going."

Soon they were walking forward in relative silence.

A few moments later the silence was broken by the quiet declaration, "Horses are hindgut fermenters."

Rodney furrowed his brow, "What? What? Carson, who cares?"

"Wombats too," Beckett answered with a sloppy smile on his face.

McKay leaned forward and looked across Beckett to Sheppard.

The colonel merely quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. _Who knew?_

The group weaved their way toward the gate.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay here is the ending. The site says its going to be down, but I'm off line for a few days, so its either now or never. The ending is rough. But oh well. Its a bike fic...and those unfortunately are rough. Not Beta'd---but hey stuff happens--time runs out.

**Part 4**

Beckett didn't understand the panicked voices or recognize the rapid fire of P-90s or the sudden rush forward. He heard the wooosh of the stargate and knew it sounded familiar but didn't understand why.

He was knocked to the ground and something heavy lay across him. _Liam never could walk a straight line._ He struggled to get free, to no avail. Movement from the corner of his eye captured his attention and he once again systematically began squashing tiny ants, even stretching out as far as he could, heedless of the stunner and P-90 fire that criss crossed the small clearing near the gate.

"No, Carson, no" Rodney hissed at him, holding him down. McKay kept his .9mm unholstered and watched as Ronon, Sheppard and Teyla traded shots with the Wraith.

"McKay!" Sheppard hollered.

"We're okay!"

"Get through the gate!"

"How!"

"Feet," Carson mumbled jovially to himself, wiggling his feet left and right.

"Shut up, Carson!" A low voice berated from above him.

"Use your damn feet!" Sheppard shouted from a few yards away.

"Feet," Beckett chuckled, trying to push himself upward. However, muscles weakened by strange drugs, multiple blaster hits and bouts of violent vomiting, he soon gave up. Instead, he settled back into the dirt breathing hard under Rodney's crushing weight and watch the milling of hundreds of tiny little ants. He couldn't reach the ants with his hands and resorted to trying to blow them away.

Stunner blasts zoomed overhead, imploding into the ground, tossing up tufts of nitrogen rich dirt. The fresh clumps rained down upon McKay and Beckett. _If cousin Arthur got into mum's Petunia's again to bury his marbles, she'd never forgive him._

"Rodney, we're going to lay down cover fire. I want you to get Carson on his feet and through the damn gate!"

"Okay…okay," Rodney mumbled to himself. "You hear that Carson? On your feet and run for the gate. You understand?"

"Peter's missing his feet. Oh and his right eye. You see? " He stared into the empty space to their right, transfixed.

Rodney stared from Beckett to the open area that held the physician's attention. He didn't want to think about Peter Grodin or his missing feet or any of the people the expedition had lost. Why did Carson have to bring them up now?

"Dumais has a bloody nose." He switched his attention from McKay to Dumais. "Why's that lassie?" Beckett cocked his head just to the side as if trying to listen for answer. "Dr. Collin's skin is melting," there was a hint of frightened trepidation in Beckett's voice.

McKay shut his eyes and fought his building frustration, "Yes, Carson, yes. They are all dead, okay. You're seeing dead people."

"Dr. Biro sees dead people," the physician noted while resting his face back into the soft spring grass and dirt.

"Yes, Carson. Now remember your feet. On your feet and get ready to run." McKay kept his hand on the back of Beckett's shoulders holding him still while he peered nervously up over the boulders near the DHD.

Beckett struggled underneath him. "Not yet." Rodney hissed back.

"Rodney!" Sheppard hollered.

"Okay!"

Suddenly the small area was full of controlled bursts of P-90 fire which was harshly broken by the rough sounds of Ronon's blaster pistol.

"Go!" Sheppard ordered.

Rodney scrambled to his feet dragging Beckett with him.

Carson struggled to maintain his balance as Rodney propelled him to and then through the gate.

They stumbled into the gate room in a tangle of limbs fighting for balance. A stunner blast followed them through and slammed solidly into McKay's lower back. The astrophysicist was flung forward into the CMO like a tossed rag doll.

They tumbled solidly to the floor in a tangle of limbs. McKay's forehead slapped off the gate room floor in a poor mimicry of breaking his fall.

Beckett lay belly down blinking lazily. He noticed the ants and started meticulously squishing them one by one with a dirty finger.

Someone ordered a med-team to the area.

More commotion and soon Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon were standing in the gate room and the Iris was flashed into place.

Voices competed with one another as orders were given. The sound of running feet and the swish of clothing seemed exceptionally loud to the CMO. The floor kept moving and that bothered him.

A teensy ant skittered around and tried to reach him from a flanking position. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye and quickly smudged it with his dirt encrusted thumb.

Carson noticed larger forms moving just to his left. He ignored them and concentrated on the wee ants. As much as he wanted to revisit with Peter and Collins and the others, their unsightly wounds gnawed at him. He couldn't help but want to stare and then patch them up. However, it was impolite to stare and bandaging dead people seemed like a moot point.

Someone kneeled down beside the draping pile of limbs which consisted of Carson and Rodney.

Rodney's weight was lifted from Beckett. Carson lay still keeping his heated cheek pressed to the cool flooring. His eyes remained opened while the floor rolled and undulated like growing swells that precede an ocean storm.

Tiny ants milled about crawling over one another with boundless energy and abandon.

"Doc, you okay?"

A comforting hand touched Carson's shoulder. He relished the contact. It was grounding. He squished one more ant.

"Excuse me, Colonel, sir, we need in to get in there." Biro's curt observation had Sheppard backing away.

The solid touch left his shoulder. He lost his contact and was left floating without direction or an anchor. He searched for more ants and squished those milling few that wandered dangerously close to him.

"Dr. Beckett, sir? Are you okay?"

" .3048 meters---Foot," Beckett muttered softly. He bent a knee and lifted an impossibly heavy heel and rotated it left and right. He kept his focus on the ants and took a cautious deep breath, careful not to inhale their little bodies. His stomach rolled with the motion of the floor.

Biro looked over her shoulder to the Colonel with eyebrows raised in silent question.

The colonel shrugged, "Villagers drugged him, 'cleansing ceremony'." He quirked an eyebrow and offered a crooked smile. "They didn't tell us until after the fact; said he had to be cleansed before he could treat their chief." Sheppard paused and then jutted his chin toward the CMO. "He's squashing ants," and shrugged again. "It helps keep him quiet."

Biro nodded slowly, finding none of this as terribly surprising. She rested a cool hand on the side of Beckett's flushed face and felt the low grade fever.

"Mum?" Beckett whispered, shifting his head into her hand, "I don'feel so good." He moved slightly trying to relieve the pressure on his abdomen. With bound wrists, he rubbed lazily at his whiskered face as he shifted onto his side drawing his knees closer to his stomach. He spotted another insect and carefully smooshed it.

Biro sighed tiredly and shook her head in resignation. "The restraints?"

"He shouldn't be given cleansing ceremony drugs." Sheppard paused, "Ronon's probably going to need stitches; McKay too, from the looks of it."

"Fantastic," Biro sulked.

Sheppard smirked and stood offering to help the medics load onto a gurney. The astrophysicist shifted about with uncoordinated movements, balancing on the fine line of consciousness and unconsciousness. A gauze four by four had been placed over a bleeding wound at the corner of his forehead. A large deep blue and maroon goose egg had already started to form around and under the deep gash on his head. Definitely stitches. _McKay and Biro were going to love that._

Biro remained squatting next her boss and sighed heavily. "Colonel, I'm going to need you and your team in the infirmary for a little more history."

* * *

"Carson." 

Beckett rolled his head away from noise.

"No, Carson," the voice called again. "You need to open your eyes for just a moment."

Fingertips gently gripped his jaw and rolled his head. "Carson."

A third unfamiliar voice spoke from a further distance, "Ma'am be careful, remember what happened to Dr. Morrison."

"He'll be fine private," the soft voice reassured and then turned it's attention toward him, "Won't you, Carson?"

He tried to roll his head away again, but the gentle finger tips increased their pressure just a little. "Open your eyes, just for a moment."

"Feet." There was a slight pause, "0.0003048 kilometers."

"No, Carson," a chuckle laced the soft command. "No more feet; no more conversions. Open your eyes."

"Damn, they really screwed him up," A second voice sounded harsher, louder, a little more worried.

"That is not helping, Dr. McKay." The soft voice took on a hint of a reprimand.

"Tell me I'm wrong." McKay's voice had the familiar tone of panicked certainty. "I mean look what happened to that idiot surgeon Morrison when he rubbed his knuckles against Carson's sternum to get his attention."

"Rodney." A familiar deep voice took on a warning tone. Sheppard. It sounded like Colonel Sheppard.

Carson listened to the voices. His head hurt, his stomach hurt. He didn't know where he was or what happened. Something had happened, he just didn't know what. _They were at the pub, Brennan probably found some trouble. Normally Arthur did but sometimes his little brother followed in his older brother's foot steps. Carson's cousins could be trouble. It made his mum worry._

"Carson, open your damn eyes." McKay's annoyed voice demanded he be listened too. Beckett remembered Rodney.

"McKay." Sheppard's voice. "We don't want a repeat of earlier. Okay?"

"I'm just saying," Rodney warned a little more subdued.

"Carson," the soft voice again. A woman's voice. Not his mum. _Oh God, hopefully not a nurse; his mum would kill him_. "Carson, open your eyes for me, please."

"Go 'way," he mumbled. His head and stomach hurt enough for two people all he wanted to do was sleep.

"No, Carson."

"You're arguing with a drugged man you know that don't you?" Rodney's voice cut in again.

"Rodney," Sheppard warned again.

"Carson, open your damn eyes and they'll leave you alone," McKay's exasperated promise cut through the fuzzy gloom.

"Carson," the soft voice spoke again, "Dr. McKay is correct. Open your eyes and we'll leave you alone."

Rodney was rarely wrong. He might be full of bluster, full of self impressed ego but he was rarely ever wrong. If he said something was going to happen he was normally correct.

Beckett's eyes fluttered open. It was difficult. Unseemingly hard. His upper lids didn't want to lift, his lower lids didn't want to peel apart.

"That's it Carson." The voice seemed to smile.

It was bright. The light pierced his eyes and lanced into his head. He closed his eyes quickly and turned his head. It made his stomach jump and head pound. Somewhere in the background he heard someone command the lights be dimmed. Soft fingers rolled his head, turning it back to square on the pillow.

"Come on, Doc," Sheppard cajoled. "Open them baby blues."

Carson felt a hand on his face again, directing it. His eyes fluttered open again. Things remained grossly out of focus. The lights were dim.

"Carson." the soft voice again. "There you go." A blurry face leaned over him. He blinked and things became a little sharper. Shadows and depth of light became apparent. "Welcome back."

He remained silent and simply blinked. He felt heavy; his limbs unnaturally weighted.

"He sees dead people." It was Rodney's voice again, slightly panicked.

"So do I." Biro's clipped tone rang tiredly from somewhere near by.

Rodney eyed the pathologist with a look of disgust. "Figures."

Carson tried to follow the voices but things wavered in an out of his apparently fickle range of hearing.

"Doc, you in there?" Sheppard's worried voice sounded from within the shadows; more direct, anchored.

Beckett shifted his eyes, trying to latch onto the owner of the voice and focus him. He didn't register the relieved sighs from different sources in the area.

"Thank-God," the soft voice whispered.

Beckett felt a hand rest on his shoulder. It was a solid, comforting contact. He turned his head toward it, blinking slowly.

Lines became a little sharper.

"Carson, can you tell me where you are?"

He paused as the words slowly filtered in and settled, arranging themselves in sequential order. He blinked again, and let his eyes slowly rove about. Silhouettes loomed close to him as distant figures seemed to glide about in the background.

A shadow, with a bit of substance, sat on the edge of the bed adjacent to him.

Rodney.

Two marines stood on opposite sides of his bed near his knees. That puzzled him. He stared at them, blinking slowly trying to piece together why they would be staring at him.

"Carson? Carson, can you tell me where you are?" He knew that soft voice.

Carson stared at the ceiling, noting the unique beams. He let his eyes settle on the speaker closest to him. It was the figure with the soft insistent voice. The one that gently but persistently demanded that he open his eyes.

He blinked slowly, fighting to stay awake. Gradually his blurry vision finally focused on Dr. Weir.

"A'lan'is," his voice rasped against the dryness in his throat. She graced him with a true grin, bringing the hint of a smile to Carson's stubbled features.

"Thank you, Dr. Weir," Dr. Biro's sharp voice broke through the shadows.

"Why does he listen to Elizabeth?" Rodney demanded. "He damn near took off Morrison's head when that buffoon rubbed his knuckles over his chest. Your two toy soldiers weren't enough."

"Diplomat, Rodney, she's a Diplomat. It's what she does," Sheppard pointed out and then added, "You should practice it." The colonel paused and then defended the two young marines. "And they were enough to let Dr. Biro here, get a needle sunk in him. They did their job."

The two marines straightened slightly under the praise.

"Still think you should have Ronon and Teyla here just in case he tries to take off again."

Carson focused on Rodney trying to follow the conversation but feeling two steps behind.

A gentle hand redirected his chin and rolled his head back to the left. He found himself staring at Elizabeth.

"Good to have you back, Carson." Dr. Weir patted his shoulder again and graced him with another smile. "Get some rest." Elizabeth melted into the shadows.

"Thankyou gentlemen for your help," Biro spoke looking first to McKay and then to Sheppard. "You can go now Colonel, unless you would like to stay and visit with Dr. McKay for a bit." The pathologist began closing the small privacy curtain around Dr. Beckett's bed.

Carson heard the scratching tinny metal loops against the aluminum rail and felt it grate against his nerve endings. His heart leaped into his throat and the sudden irrational desire to up and run flooded his system. The curtain moved too fast.

"Hey, Carson, got to go." Rodney pushed off from the edge of the bed he sat on. "Have fun." He wobbled as his precarious balance seemed to have fled him.

"Dr. McKay, put that over educated cranium of yours right back on that pillow. You and your mild concussion are not going anywhere."

McKay's sputtering was interrupted by the Colonel.

"I think I might stay for a bit," Sheppard quietly stated. He noted the flashing changes in the silenced monitors that rested above the head of the bed. "Easy, Doc." He quietly ordered and raised a hand so stay Biro's actions. The curtain stopped its sliding motion.

Rodney leaned forward, nearly lost his balance but was steadied by one of the silent Marines. McKay scowled at the younger man but with his help stared at the sharply rising readings on the surrounding monitors. "Here we go again." Rodney leaned heavily on edge of his assigned bed.

"Help, Dr. McKay, back onto his bed," Sheppard ordered quietly. "We made need the room."

The marine nodded and turned to the astrophysicist, "Sir?"

McKay scowled in defiance.

"Rodney," Sheppard intoned with forced calmness while keeping his eyes on Beckett.

The CMO seemed to slowly relax as the sharp sound of metal on metal stopped and curtain ceased billowing.

Sheppard noted Biro making notations in the chart near the bedside.

Beckett tried to watch the curtain folds but found it too difficult to keep up with their quivering movements. He focused tired eyes on Biro who looked up from the chart and stared back.

Sheppard watched as numbers and scrolling lines dipped and slowed on the overhead monitors.

"I feel lousy," Beckett rasped.

"You look worse," Biro confirmed.

"He's not going to vomit again, is he?" McKay's worry and disgust were clearly audible. "Because he looks worse than Radek did with the stomach flu."

Biro merely quirked an eyebrow and turned her attention back to Beckett in silence askance. She easily read the panicked, worried look that was tinged with an air of resignation. She placed the small kidney shaped basin next to his shoulder.

"If you got everything under control, Doc?" He looked questionably at Biro, who simply nodded. "Then I'll guess this is my cue to leave," Sheppard quickly stated. He patted Carson's blanketed lower leg. "Good to have you back, Doc." The Colonel slid deeper into the shadows of the infirmary.

"See you Rodney," Sheppard chirped happily and waved from the safety of the exit.

The two young marines stepped back to the foot of Beckett's bed. Waiting.

Rodney lay back against his pillow and watched the building commotion on the next bed over.

"Dr. Beckett?" Biro asked

"Go 'way," Carson muttered. He wanted to be sick in private. He tried rolling away from Biro but didn't quite succeed. It required some coordinated muscle movement and at the moment he didn't believe his muscles were communicating with much of anything, except maybe his stomach. And unfortunately it had a rebellious mind of its own.

His stomach suddenly revolted, his back arched. He heard Rodney mutter a disgusted curse, which Carson wanted to return, but found his shoulder and head turned toward the little inadequate basin as his stomach made another foolish bid for freedom. He wished it luck. He knotted the bed linens in his fist as his abdominal muscles once again seized and cramped with unparallel intensity as his stomach seemingly inverted itself in his throat. After a moment he sagged back within the mattress, spent and sweating. "I wanna go to my quarters."

Biro chuckled without humor placing a stalling hand on his shoulder, "Think again."

"Concussion over here," Rodney muttered rolling onto his side to stare at the flimsy curtain that hid Beckett, "A little quiet would go a long way."

"Bugger off, Rodney," Beckett whispered. He let his eyes drift shut and hoped his medical staff would give him something to keep his stomach in place.

A firm grip held his jaw. "Not so fast, sir." He blinked his eyes open and stared impatiently at the attending doctor.

"Now, Dr. Beckett," Biro stepped forward and clicked her penlight on. Carson groaned and shut his eyes trying to turn his head away. His stomach gurgled.

"I hear you've been seeing dead people and ants."

McKay listened to the conversation from his bed and smirked. There was something terribly wrong in seeing Carson as a patient on the next bed over. There was something cosmically wrong with it.

* * *

"Morning, Dr. Weir. Colonel Sheppard" 

"Good morning to you Dr. Biro," Elizabeth returned as she walked between the two beds of her chief Science officer and Chief medical officer.

"Doc," Sheppard greeted, raising his coffee mug in a half hearted salute. "How are they?"

"Dr. McKay will be released this morning if he keeps his breakfast down." Biro answered staring at the sleeping astrophysicist. It was about the only time he was quiet.

"Dr. Beckett will be our guest until this afternoon." Biro released the padded light tan leather restraints from around his wrists and then moved to release his ankles.

"Restraints?" Weir asked

"Specialist Dex found him late last evening in the uninhabited part of the city conversing with Peter Grodin."

"He give you any trouble when he got back?" Sheppard asked, having already known about last nights activities.

"No, none at all." Biro spoke in her usual clipped hyperactive manner. " However, he was restless. Which was to be expected…sort of."

Weir raised both eyebrows and nodded. "And this morning?"

"Blood tests are clean. He was more lucid and coherent than last evening and is no longer seems hypersensitive to light and sound."

"And our unseen guests?" Sheppard asked slightly uncomfortable with the idea of dead and mutilated expedition members were walking around the city even if it were just in the CMO's imagination.

Biro shrugged, "I can't attest to the fact he won't being seeing more dead people." She grimaced and shrugged her shoulders, "as for the ants---unless they are from off world or the mainland, he shouldn't be seeing them." She slid the last ankle restraint out from the bed.

"Any idea what they gave him?" Weir asked, accepting Biro's convoluted remark that more expedition members were likely to pass on before their time in Atlantis was through.

"Dr. Kavanaugh and his group are still working on it."

A disgusted grunt from McKay's bed had the three turning and looking down at the astrophysicist. "Carson will grow old before they finds anything."

"Good morning to you too, Sunshine." Sheppard sing songed.

"How are you feeling, Rodney?" Weir asked with a soft smile lightening her face.

"Like Biro 's been my doctor for the last 18 hours."

Sheppard smiled, "You look like death too."

McKay scowled.

"If you will excuse me, I have more interesting bacteria to work on." Biro nodded to the two heads of Atlantis and smiled menacingly at McKay. "Dr. McKay you are free to go; eat some breakfast and please try and not vomit in the commissary again."

"You are such an unpleasant person," McKay stated. "What about Carson? Are you planning on ignoring your boss, he won't mind at all; probably be safer for him anyhow."

Biro paused and then shrugged, "He'll wake up when he wakes up---we'll proceed from there." She headed toward her lab, stopping at the nurses desk, and spoke quietly to Kelly and then continued on her way to the Bac-T lab.

"Gentlemen we have a debriefing in half an hour," Weir looked at McKay, "I expect you to be there." She paused and then added, "if you're up to it." She gave the two men a tight smile, cast one last look at her CMO who slept hidden under his blankets and exited the infirmary.

"Come on McKay, lets get something to eat." Sheppard said folding his arms and sitting on the edge of Beckett's bed.

"I want to shower first."

"We all want you to shower first," Sheppard said. "So come one lets go."

* * *

**Two days later**

Dr. Weir sat at the head of the conference table and matched the questioning and concerned looks of Rodney McKay and Colonel Sheppard. In fact, Dr. Zelenka, Teyla and Ronon were all watching the same thing with similar apprehensive expressions.

Major Lorne slowly stopped speaking and turned his attention to the person that was unknowingly the focus of everyone else's interest.

Dr. Beckett sat in his usual seat. He held a chipped, plain white, heavy coffee mug in one hand and stared intently at the surface of the table. With his other hand he rubbed his thumb pad onto the finished top in an eerily familiar manner of squishing ants.

Sheppard leaned forward resting his forearms on the table surface. McKay mimicked his movements. Different sets of eyes glanced worriedly around the table all asking the same silent question. _Anyone else seeing ants?._

Weir met the Colonel's eye. Sheppard cocked an eyebrow and shrugged a shoulder.

It was Rodney who finally spoke, "Ahh, Carson what are you doing?"

Without looking up, Carson answered, "There seems to be a scratch on the table, never noticed it before." The doctor continued to run his thumb over a specific spot on the table and scrutinize it.

Sighs of relief sounded from various points in the room as the others sunk back into their chairs.

"Thought you might be seeing ants again or something." Sheppard joked with a touch of apprehension.

"Ants?" Beckett furrowed his brow looking up at the Colonel. "Oh, The ants," He smiled and then chuckled slightly, "No. They're gone---They left with Peter and the others."

"Good." Sheppard's face brightened with his best 'Boy Scout' smile. "We're heading out for another meet and greet and thought you should come along." Sheppard offered.

Beckett's eyes grew wide and he sputtered for a second before furrowing his brow. "Are you daft man? Completely daft? Lost ya mind have ya?"

"You know get back up on the horse and all that?" McKay offered.

"Get up on a horse, ya say? Ya bloody, git! I'm not gettin' on any bloody horse….let alone go through that molecule mixer." Beckett stared red faced at McKay and then turned his glare at the Colonel.

"I think gentlemen," Weir intervened with her quiet authority, "that now is not the time for discussing this." She turned her attention to the CMO. "Carson, you'll be staying here. I think your staff would like to see you for awhile on your feet and making sense."

"Well, I hope they don't hold their breath." Rodney stated with exasperation.

"Major Lorne, please continue with the debriefing." Weir interrupted halting any more discussions.

"Go through the gate…bloody daft if you ask me," Carson whispered to himself before taking a sip of cold coffee.

Sheppard smirked and turned his attention to Major Lorne and nodded. The colonel leaned back in his chair, mulling over different ploys to that would get Dr. Beckett successfully through the gate again.

-the end.


End file.
